You can be on. You can be up for days, weeks, and then the feeling washes over you, not comfortable like warm bathwater and bubbles, but heavy the way it feels when your feet become imbedded in sand as the ocean washes over them time and time again. Maybe it’s exhaustion from pushing yourself mentally, feeling you need to be constantly clever or smiling.
It’s no one’s fault. No one but you can free yourself from this jagged-toothed trap. They want to. They miss your smile. They miss your wit. They miss you.
The pouty self rises: I’m no good. I’m not good enough. You realize that voice means nothing at all. It belongs to someone else, years ago, stemming from their own lack of self-esteem. Years have muted that voice, which now only vibrates when the world feels sad. And, now you can deal with sadness, because everyone has it. This lets you celebrate the other days, the majority of days where glad surpasses sad.